Tag Archives: rap

Daily Discussion with BQB – Nicki Minaj or Cardi B?

3.5 readers, I need you to sit down for a second because there’s a war a-brewing and it’s not being talked about enough.

Nicki Minaj’s delicious, delectable derriere has brought me much joy over the past several years, so much so that I always sing along with all of her butt raps.

But now there’s a newcomer, a young upstart, a new claimant to the “girl who is the best at rapping about her big butt” throne.

I don’t know, 3.5 readers.  Cardi B’s got it.  She’s rising up the charts.  She’s moving fast.  I mean, I only have so much time in the day to listen to girls rapping about their butts and now Cardi is taking time usually reserved for Nicki and splitting it in half.  Now my butt rap song listening time is divided between these two.

Seriously, now I know how the crack that divides the cheeks on those butts they’re always rapping about must feel.

Am I cheating on Nicki by listening to Cardi?  Did I form a relationship where a beautiful Nubian goddess promised to rap about her butt to me forever and in exchange, I promised to give her my money forever by buying her songs and shit but now, a new girl comes along?  Maybe this is how husbands end up cheating.  You meet a woman.  You fall in love.  You never think you’d stray but then here comes the new hottie with a fresh take on butt raps.

In any event, when I was a kid, Sunday was “In Living Color” night.  Between “The Simpsons,” “In Living Color,” and “Married with Children,” that night was like the most politically incorrect night on television.  Millennials would be so triggered by all that shit today.

Cardi and Bruno Mars put out a video where they dance on the fly girl stage just like the fly girls did back in the day on “In Living Color.”  No, it doesn’t make me happy to know all the things I enjoyed as a kid are fun nostalgia but I enjoyed the video just the same.

Don’t fight over me, Cardi and Nicki.  There’s plenty of BQB to go around.

Who will you choose, 3.5 readers?

 

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Conspiracy Corner with Tin Hat Ted – Top Ten Biggie/Tupac Death Conspiracy Theories

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By: Tin Hat Ted, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Conspiracy Theorist

Hello 3.5 readers (if that is your real name.)

Tin Hat Ted here (if that is my real name.)

Biggie.  Tupac.  They were the greatest rappers of the 1990s, and yet, both were gunned down in their prime, although lets be honest, pizza probably would have achieved the mission of the assassin’s bullet on Biggie by now anyway, though Tupac could very well still be belting out new tunes.

And you never know.  Lil Kim might have put Biggie’s ass on Jenny Craig, so perhaps he could have been here with us too.

The cases have never been solved, but here are my Top Ten Conspiracy Theories Regarding the Deaths of Biggie and Tupac:

#1 – Biggie and Tupac Invented Time Travel

The general public was unaware of this, but when Lil Kim wasn’t busy rapping about how tasty her pussy was, she was a brilliant mathematician and scientist.  My research indicates that Lil Kim, in her off hours, achieved the unthinkable – she cracked the equation that was necessary for time travel and built a working time machine.

After constructing the device in 1997, Lil Kim intended to use it to stop World War II, but alas, Biggie stole it and used it to travel back one year to 1996, where he then shot Tupac in Vegas.

Tupac, genius that he was, had already built a time machine of his very own.  He carried it in his pocket, for it was very small.  In the seconds before he was hit before Biggie’s bullet, Tupac obtained instant revenge by traveling forward one year, killing Biggie, then returning to his own time to sacrifice himself rather than interfere with the space time continuum.

Note that Tupac could have traveled to any time, like if he wanted to, he could have traveled to the 1970s and smothered Biggie in his crib when he was a fat baby, but instead, he selflessly traveled to the future and shot Biggie at a time when Biggie was celebrating, thinking he had successfully capped Tupac without repercussion.

It was all very East Coast vs. West Coast.  Nothing was going to stop that feud, not even the bounds of time.

#2 – Alt Rockers 

Alt rockers knew that their brand of clinically depressed music would never last past 2000, whereas rap was here to stay.  I mean, seriously dude, compare songs about heartache and loss versus upbeat jams about partying, drinking, smoking weed and blasting pussy and shit, there’s no comparison.

Witnesses I spoke to indicate that grungy flannel shirt wearing guitar players may have wanted the rap game’s two biggest players on ice in hopes that rap would fizzle and alt rock would continue.

I can’t confirm this happened, however, rap remained strong even after the loss of Tupac and Biggie.  This is largely due to Biggie’s protege, P-Diddy, who carried on for the East Coast, whereas Snoop Dogg kept the West Coast rocking.

Alt Rockers had no proteges or a next generation, so after 2000, the flannel look went kaput.

#3 – They Shot Themselves By Accident

I’m not sure about this but as far as I know, neither men were gun safety experts or trained marksman, so it’s not impossible that they just tucked their gats into their pants and then the guns accidentally went off.

#4 – Angry White Mothers

Angry white mothers were mad as shit in the 1990s, pissed that music, particularly rap, was so full of naughty words.  I’m working a story that suggests a mini-van full of pistol packin’ suburban soccer moms may have performed drive-bys on both of our favorite rappers.

#5 – The CIA

I’ve yet to determine why the CIA might have wanted Tupac out of the picture.

However, take these lyrics from Biggie’s “Juicy” in 1994:

Now I’m in the limelight, because I rhyme tight.

Time to get paid, blow up the World Trade.

Could it be that Biggie was a modern day Nostradamus, embedding warnings to the world of tragedies to avoid in his raps?

Historians might point out that there was an earlier attempt to blow up the World Trade Center in the early 1990s that Biggie was likely referring to.

However, at this time, we cannot rule out the possibility that Biggie was a clairvoyant.

#6 – They Faked Their Own Deaths

I’m currently investigating a claim that only Biggie and Tupac shaped mannequins were shot on the fateful days in question.  I have a source who tells me there may or may not be a bed and breakfast in upstate Vermont run by two men who fit Tupac and Biggie’s descriptions.

Does this mean that Tupac and Biggie fell in love and decided to run away together, in a time when there love would most certainly not have been accepted by the misogynist rap game of the early 1990s?

Possibly.  Then again, maybe they were just platonic friends who liked chilly New England winters and making waffles for tourists.

#7 – Biggie and Tupac Were Aliens

It’s clear that Biggie and Tupac were above average rappers, perhaps too good…perhaps their genius came from out of this world space brains from another galaxy.  When it was time for these extraterrestrial beings to return to their home planets, they shed their human forms, covered it up with an elaborate rouse, then boarded their space ships to rap again in their alien forms.  Perhaps they will return one day to entertain us again…and rap about bitches.  So many bitches.

#8 – Angry Bitches

Bitches got mad they were being called bitches and sought payback.  Don’t mess with angry bitches.

#9 – The Illuminati

Biggie and Tupac were slated by the Illuminati to become famous politicians.  Unfortunately for them, Biggie and Tupac defied the Illuminati and pursued their rap ambitions.  The Illuminati was not pleased.

#10 – The Yakuza

I’m unaware as to how Biggie and Tupac might have offended the Yakuza.  However, the Yakuza has a hand in everything.

NOTES:  Keep in mind these are all mere theories.  I have no hard evidence.  Without confirmation, you must consider all of these theories untrue and unfounded.

YOUR THEORIES

Do you have a conspiracy theory regarding the deaths of Biggie and Tupac?  Let me know in the comments below.

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Bookshelf Battle Rap

I spent actual money on this, so I have to trot it out once in awhile.  Enjoy.

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A Rap About the Seventy Cent Royalty I Was Paid For My E-Book (Or, “Seventy Cents”)

Yo.  2017.  Time to grip the green.  Lay down some treble and crank up the bass.  Bookshelf Q. Battler all up in this place, gettin’ ready to blast some beats in your face.  Let’s do this shit.

Sometimes a man just got a dream…a vision in his eye and a song in heart.

But the world do all it can to rip him apart.

So he falls to the floor, his body feels spent.

Then he checks his account, sees he’s got seventy cent.

Oh seventy cents!  You are a dream come true!

Gonna travel the world spending you!

Oh seventy cents!  I’m rich as fuck!

What did my ass do to deserve all this luck?

Yo, I was in the bodega, and something struck me as funny.

A girl was all alone and she was a fly ass hunny.

So I said, “Girl you wanna get with me? I got a lotta money.”

And soon we were going’ at it like a couple of bunnies.

And then the girl was like, “How much money you got cuz I’m feeling pretty fine?”

And I was like, “Girl, relax, cuz I got seven dimes.”

Oh seventy cents!  For a book that I spent like 600 fuckin dollars to print!

Yes, to see that money you gotta squint!

Seventy cents!  Lift me outta my rut!

And Jeff Fuckin’ Bezos gotta take his cut!

Oh seventy cents, yes you are true!

Three quarters minus a nickel, I love you!

DISCLAIMER:  We here at the Bookshelf Battle Blog always love it when Jeff Fuckin’ Bezos takes his cut of the proceeds from the book we put out that like 3.5 people have read.  We hope Mr. Bezos puts the money to good use, most likely to become the Supreme Overlord Ruler of Us All.  Hail Bezos!

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Wannabe Rapper

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Yo. 2017.  Time to get the green.  BQB on the track like a flea on a dog’s back.  Crank up the bass and let’s lay this shit down, ya heard?

Ahh, dating.  It’s one of the great joys of life, unless your boyfriend is a wannabe rapper.  He’s got the backwards hat.  He’s got a few lyrics he’s scribbled down on some notebook paper.  He yearns so badly to join ranks of Snoop, NWA, 50 Cent, and Eminem.

But let’s face it.  He couldn’t rap his way out of a paper bag and you’ll be supporting him forever.

From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Rapper:

#10 – Begins Every Conversation With a Lead-In That Features the Year, Followed by What He Wants the Sound Technician to Do

YOU:  Hun, what do you want for dinner?

HIM:  Yo, yo, yo, 2017…don’t want no string beans.  Put a little slick on this mic and we gonna lay this track down.  Bring some motherfuckin’ pizza to town, know what I’m sayin’ cuz?

#9 – He Never Introduces You to His Friends…He Announces the Collaboration

YOU:  Oh, hi hun.  You didn’t tell me you were having friends over.  Can you introduce me?

HIM:  Yo, yo, yo, B-Money Steaze up in the house, gettin’ ready to blow the doors off this motha-fucka….yeah and Sticky Mark up on the track, gettin’ it all whack for your ears, now what I’m sayin’?  Funk-ta-fied Freddy backin us up all day, everyday and Worldwide Miscreant stoppin’ by to get in on this shiznit, ya dope ass sucka!

#8 – So Many Backwards Hats

They’re easily convertible to frontwards hats but he just won’t listen, even after 30.

#7 – Always Offering You a Demo Tape…

…no matter how many times you tell him you’re not in the industry and can’t help him…or that no one uses cassettes anymore.

#6 – Always Talking About How Hard His Life Is/Was

HIM:  Yo, yo, yo, growin’ up on the streets was no fun, bitches in my face wavin’ they gun, how I got out the hood is a wonder, all my dead homies be six feet under.

YOU:  You were from Connecticut, dipshit.

#5 – Refers to Money as Stacks

BANK TELLER:  And how would you like to cash this check sir?

HIM:  Yo, yo, yo give me fat stacks, bitch!

#4 – Calls Everyone “Bitch”

You, your friends, your family, your dog, everyone.

GRANNY AT THANKSGIVING:  Sonny, can you pass the gravy?

HIM: Aw, shit!  Gravy comin’ all up in this motha-fucka, bitch!

#3 – Won’t Get a Day Job

Because he likes to keep it real.  Rappable stories come from the streets, not from working 9-5 at Kinko’s, bitch.

#2 – Always Working On New Rhymes

All day, every day, his notebook is out and his pen is scribbling new lyrics.  If only he could sell some.

#1 – Fights Are Like Rap Battles

YOU:  You didn’t do the dishes!

HIM:  Yo, yo, yo, bitch want me to do the dishes and now she mad, wants me to sleep with the fishes!

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Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript #10

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KURT MANLEY: Witnesses on the scene report that upon realizing that only unattractive people were consumed by the mudslide, emergency service personnel turned around and went bowling instead, allowing all those uggos to die a slow, miserable death via mud suffocation. Yeesh. Mud in the lungs. Gotta hate it when that happens. Lucky for me, I’m Kurt Manley, the most handsome anchor in the news game, so I don’t have to worry about anything.

(Kurt looks to another camera)

KURT MANLEY: Good morning, USA. If you’re just waking up, it’s time to rub the krispies out of your eyeballs, maybe take a shower and brush your teeth because I’m sure you all stink. Don’t forget to put your used diapers outside. We’ve been getting reports here at NN1 that imbeciles all across our great nation have been allowing their used diapers to pile up in their homes until the stench becomes so unbearable that all occupants of the home pass out cold. Yes, America, our long, national nightmare is not over yet. The toilet gator is still on the loose and we’re receiving second hand reports from lesser rival news networks that he struck again, this time at an e-mail spammer convention in downtown Miami. Not sure why our Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties posted in South Florida wasn’t on this breaking story like stink on a monkey but don’t you worry folks, I’ll be chewing her out royally later.

In the meantime, to take your mind of all this, why don’t you put on a fresh diaper and take a load off, because world famous rapper Stank Daddy is in the studio, here to dish about everything from his sadness over the late Countess Cucamonga to his new album. Stank, thanks for joining us.

(Camera pans out to show STANK DADDY at the news desk with Kurt. STANK DADDY wears ten shiny, solid gold chains around his neck, sports a gold tooth in his mouth and wears a purple suit topped off by a leopard print fedora. He clutches a fancy cane with a giant diamond on top.)

STANK DADDY: Yo, what up, K-Dawg? What’s crack-a-lackin’?

KURT MANLEY: K-Dawg. I like it. Thank you for joining us, Stank.

STANK DADDY: It’s all good, cuz.

KURT MANELY: Stank, you’re one of the top artists in the music industry. How are you and your peers coping with the tragic loss of Countess Cucamonga?

STANK DADDY: Aw, shit…we…oops…can I say shit?

KURT MANLEY: This network literally has no standards, Stank. Our late night host is a foul mouthed parrot who gets coked up while he reads funny headlines.

STANK DADDY: Aight, cool. Shit man, losing the Countess hit us all hard. She had one of the phattest asses in the game.

KURT MANLEY: Some say Lady Cyanide’s ass is fatter.

STANK DADDY: Pbbht, fool, please. You could put Lady Cyanide’s entire booty in the lower left quadrant of Countess Cucamonga’s left ass cheek, or at least you could have before that punk ass toilet gator bit it off.

KURT MANLEY: You sound like you’re taking this hard.

STANK DADDY: I am, but I’m just glad I got to work the Countess on “Phat Ass Slapper.”

KURT MANLEY: Music historians I’ve spoken to tell me it is the best song ever recorded about slapping phat asses.

STANK DADDY: No doubt.

KURT MANLEY: If you could say something to the Countess right now, what would it be?

STANK DADDY: Aw, now you put me on the spot, son. I dunno. I’d just tell her to keep on being her and I hope she’s having fun being the finest ass bitch in heaven. Shit, can I say “bitch?”

KURT MANLEY: You sure can. Hell, I say it to every woman I know, from my mother to all of the interns running around the studio. Helps them stay grounded.

(Kurt takes a sip out of his coffee mug, then spits it out in a giant spray towards the camera. He then looks off camera to his left and holds up his mug.)

KURT MANLEY: Bitch! Did you really give K-Dawg instant coffee? You know K-Dawg don’t do no instant coffee, bitch!”

(Kurt sets his mug down on the desk)

KURT MANLEY: Sorry, Stank. Sometimes K-Dawg feels like he’s got to smack a bitch.

STANK DADDY: I hear you, K-Dawg.

KURT MANLEY: Which brings us to another topic. Your critics say your last single, “Smack a Bitch” is little more than violent, anti-female misogyny sugarcoat with a slick, happening beat. What do you say?

STANK DADDY: Bitch, please. I’m one of the nicest, pro-woman mother fuckers around. Can I say mother fucker?

KURT MANLEY: Eh, you’re venturing into a shady territory but I’ll allow it.

STANK DADDY: I’m no woman hater. Everyone knows I treat a bitch right.

KURT MANLEY: Settle the dispute, right here and right now. Is the song “Smack a Bitch” actually about smacking a bitch?

STANK DADDY: As in committing violence against women? No.
KURT MANLEY: Then what is it about?

STANK DADDY: Rising up against the system and turning it up on its ear, man.

KURT MANLEY: The vast majority of your songs have lyrics that seem to suggest violence against women, but you deny that’s what they’re about?

STANK DADDY: I do.

KURT MANLEY: OK. I will now read a list of your past hits and you tell me what these songs are about, if not violence against women.

STANK DADDY: Go for it.

KURT MANLEY: “Kick a Bitch.”

STANK DADDY: Standing up to oppression.

KURT MANLEY: “Punch a Bitch.”

STANK DADDY: Income inequality.

KURT MANLEY: “Karate Chop a Bitch.”

STANK DADDY: Media bias.

KURT MANLEY: Do you think I’m biased?

STANK DADDY: Nah, you aight.

KURT MANLEY: “Shoot a bitch.”

STANK DADDY: Saving the whales.

KURT MANLEY: “Set Fire to a Bitch.”

STANK DADDY: Global warming.

KURT MANLEY: “Blow Up a Bitch with Dynamite.”

STANK DADDY: Historic injustice.

KURT MANLEY: “Cut Up a Bitch with a Chainsaw.”

STANK DADDY: Wall street corruption.

KURT MANLEY: “Drop a Nuclear Warhead on a Bitch.”

STANK DADDY: Putting an end to hate speech.
KURT MANLEY: “Sunlight Sprinkles On a Soft Kitten’s Whisker.”

STANK DADDY: OK, now that one was about smacking a bitch around and I regret that but in my defense, I was in a dark place at the time. You see, I had just broken up with my girl and I…

(Kurt Manley pushes two fingers down on his earpiece.)

KURT MANLEY: Stank, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m receiving breaking news about a high speed chase involving the toilet gator…

STANK DADDY: Get the fuck outta here.

KURT MANLEY: OK, I can only let you have one more F-Bomb, Stank, and then I’m going to have to cut you off.

STANK DADDY: I did it.

(Footage of the chase plays. From the vantage point of Walter’s camera, the Yarikazi Diabo can be seen careening down the highway with the toilet gator close behind, snapping his jaws furiously. KURT MANLEY and STANK DADDY speak in voiceover conversation as the footage rolls.)

STANK DADDY: That is some fucked up shit.

KURT MANLEY: And that’s three.

STANK DADDY: Worth it.

KURT MANLEY: Ladies and gentlemen, what you are seeing is a hot pursuit along Route 199, a highway that runs through the South Florida community of Sitwell, where, as you might recall, a college student was eaten on the toilet just days ago. We can see two men firing shots at the actual toilet gator himself.

STANK DADDY: Those are some crazy ass white people, Kurt. You won’t catch my ass getting anywhere near no toilet gator.

KURT MANLEY: Crazy ass white people indeed. My word, whoever is driving that sports car is doing it rather recklessly, as you can see folks, and…whoa…the car just narrowly missed clipping a cement truck. That would have been nasty.

STANK DADDY: That is one fat ass toilet gator, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: It certainly is. Goodness gracious, that big lizard is just cutting through every car he comes into contact with like a hot knife through butter. Look at the sheer, raw, unadulterated power of this monster.

STANK DADDY: The bullets are just bouncing off his ass.

KURT MANLEY: Yes and…oh my God! A live grenade was just fired at the toilet gator and it didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest.

STANK DADDY: Shit. Those crackas are gonna get their asses ate up.

KURT MANLEY: It seems that way. Hold on, I’m told our own Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Ass Titties is on the line while she’s driving a news van that’s keeping pace with this hot mess.

STANK DADDY: That doesn’t sound very safe to me, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Indeed it doesn’t. Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, you’re on the air…

(NATALIE BROCK’s voice sounds garbled as she’s speaking on a cell phone.)

NATALIE BROCK: Kurt, as you can see, Cole Walker, the former police chief of Sitwell, his fellow officer Rusty Yates are engaged in a terrifying, high speed standoff with FBI agent Sharon Walker at the wheel.

KURT MANLEY: Yeah, yeah, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. But what’s up with you getting scooped on the e-mail spammer story?

NATALIE BROCK: Excuse me, Kurt?”

KURT MANLEY: Our lesser rivals got to the story about the toilet gator eating a couple of e-mail spammers this morning whereas you’ve yet to file a report on it. What’s wrong with you? You got lead in your pants or something?

(NATALIE BROCK emits a violent growl.)

NATALIE BROCK: You know what, Kurt? I’m tired of your bullshit!

KURT MANLEY: Now, now Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, calm down…

NATALIE BROCK: No! I will not calm down! And my name is not “Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties!” I’m not even a blonde chick with big titties!

KURT MANLEY: You’re not that hot either…

NATALIE BROCK: Fuck you, Kurt!”

STANK DADDY: Oh, snap!

NATALIE BROCK: My name is Natalie Brock and you will call me that from now on!

KURT MANLEY: OK, Natalie. Gee whiz, looks like we caught you at that time of the month.

STANK DADDY: The red menace waits for no man or beast, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Indeed it doesn’t, Stank Daddy. Indeed it doesn’t. Natalie, maybe you ought to just pull that van over and find a man to drive while you pop a Midol or something.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m tired of your shit, Kurt! I’m bringing you live footage of a high speed chase with a toilet gator and all you can do is…

KURT MANLEY: Whoa, hold on a second. I’m going to need to cut off your blabbermouth, Natalie, as it appears that two tractor trailer trucks have arrived on the scene.

NATALIE BROCK: Yes, Kurt. They’re being driven by Maude Fuller and Burt Hayes, a former dispatcher and current Sherriff’s deputy, respectively.

KURT MANLEY: The trucks are flanking the toilet gator in some sort of pincer maneuver and…oh my God! The left truck just slammed into the alligator and….wow….that had no effect on him whatsoever.

STANK DADDY: He just looks pissed off and ready to snack on some crackas, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Things are looking pretty dire here, Natalie.

NATALIE BROCK: They sure are, Kurt. This toilet gator has taken all sorts of punishment and he’s still moving.

STANK DADDY: Like my old lady when there’s a cake in the room. You get between her ass and that cake and your ass is gonna get straight up clotheslined, ya heard?

KURT MANLEY: I heard indeed, Stank Daddy. Hot Ass Blonde…er, I mean, Natalie…it looks like the rain is coming down pretty hard.

NATALIE BROCK: Yes, Kurt! It would appear that Hurricane Dakota Rothschild is now upon us.

KURT MANLEY: That’s sure to complicate matters.

NATALIE BROCK: No shit, Sherlock.

KURT MANLEY: You know, Natalie, I don’t think I care for your insubordinate tongue.

NATALIE BROCK: Oh, really Kurt? Funny, that’s not what you said about my tongue the other day…

(Natalie plays the recording Walter made of Kurt’s dirty talk)

RECORDING OF KURT MANLEY: I’ll have a steak, medium-rare. You’ll have a salad that you’ll just play with but won’t eat because God knows NN1 can’t be allowing any porkers on the air and we don’t want you getting chubby. Then you’ll come up to my penthouse. We’ll have a nightcap, maybe dance a little and then you’ll lick my taint.

(KURT MANLEY stares blankly at the camera. His face turns red.)

STANK DADDY: Damn, Kurt! You a straight up freak, playa!

KURT MANLEY: What? That wasn’t me.

RECORDING OF KURT MANLEY: My orgasms will be more of a priority than yours. I can’t go on TV unless Little Kurty has been drained of all his buttermilk.

RECORDING OF NATALIE BROCK: Little Kurty?

RECORDING OF KURT MANLEY: My penis. My big ole famous news penis, the one attached to America’s favorite anchorman. He needs to say hello to your kitty cat.

KURT MANLEY: Ha, ha, Natalie. Very funny. Enough of this clever little parlor trick. What did you hire someone to do an impression of me or something? Because, you know, now isn’t exactly the time to….

STANK DADDY: Shit! You see that?

KURT MANLEY: What?

STANK DADDY: That dude with the one leg just put a new leg on and jumped his ass out the car and now he’s riding the alligator like a damn pony! That’s some old school gangsta shit right there.

(KURT MANLEY straightens his tie)

KURT MANLEY: Gangsta shit indeed.

RECORDING OF KURT MANLEY: Oh I’m sure no one told you but it’s sort of an unwritten rule that each and every one of our Hot Ass Blonde Chick Reporters with Big Titties has to take at least one ride on the wet and wild Kurt slide.

KURT MANLEY: OK, that’s enough! Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to take a brief commercial break while we try to talk Natalie down off her PMS ledge. After that, we’ll stay with the toilet gator chase for the duration. We won’t be going to sports or weather anytime soon and hell, we won’t even make you wait to find out which brand of toilet paper gives you anal scars. It’s Schmelman’s. That’s right. Schmelman’s Brand Toilet Paper will make the inside of your ass look like Beirut. You going anywhere, Stank Daddy?

STANK DADDY: I am not, Kurt. This is the most fun I’ve had in my entire life and I eat cereal out of a platinum chalice on a bed full of bitches every morning.

KURT MANLEY: Stank Daddy and I will be back in a jiff, monitoring the toilet gator chase as it develops.

ANNOUNCER: Network News One! The hottest blonde chicks! The biggest titties! Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit!

KURT MANLEY (VOICE OVER): Someone fire that bitch immediately!

DAN THE PRODUCER: We’re still live, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Son of a…

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BQB’s Favorite YouTubers – Straight Outta Gotham

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

I came across this video by a group calling themselves the “Castanet Creative.”  It’s pretty funny, so check it out.

At first glance, it seems like a pretty standard parody by a bunch of buddies who got together to make a YouTube video.

But if you really look at it, it’s clear they were fans of the original Straight Outta Compton video by NWA, so much so that they copy all the scenes.  Batman and Robin chasing the villains through back alleys, Riddler getting slammed down and cuffed, the Joker standing up in a top down sports car, rapping insults at Batman ala Easy E.

Kudos.  These peeps have an eye for detail and that made this video 100% funnier.

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Rap Philosophy – Sir Mix-a-Lot Likes Big Butts and He Cannot Lie

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Sir Mix-a-Lot.  The greatest rapper to rap about his love of big butts.  I have no idea if this amazingly talented man released any other songs but let’s face it, other than “Baby Got Back,” you can’t name another one, can you?

Nope.  Neither can I.

He was pretty much a one and done.  He revealed his big butt love to the world and then he no longer had anything else to say.  Sometimes a song can so perfectly capture everything an artists wants to say that the artist need not speak further.

Personally, I would love to know the tale of daring-do that Sir Mix-a-Lot engaged in, in order to be named a knight of the British Realm, but that’s neither here nor there at this time.

Big butts!  Sir Mix not only loved them, but he could not lie about his love of them.  At the time, it was considered tawdry to declare one’s love of big butts to the world, yet Sir Mix loved them so much that he could not lie about it without denying a very important piece of his soul, the fabric of his very being.

Do you love big butts?  Then you shouldn’t lie about it.  But consider this.  There are many things we all like that we lie about for fear of public reprisal.  Perhaps it is time for people to embrace Sir Mix-a-Lot’s honesty and shout to the rooftops the things you like.

Perhaps you like to write, but you fear people around you will write you off as a hopeless dreamer.

Perhaps you like music, but don’t want to be considered a frivolous person who just sits around playing your trombone.

Perhaps you like art, but fear that people will just think you are a weirdo who just paints all day.

Stop.  Whatever your theoretical “big butt” is, stop lying on it.  Sir Mix-a-Lot climbed a giant butt mountain in a video surrounded by women with big butts just to proudly declare to the world that he would not be intimidated into saying that he likes small butts, and you shouldn’t be intimidated into saying you dislike things you like, especially when there really isn’t a good reason to say that you don’t like them.

Sir Mix-a-Lot didn’t have a problem with butts.  Those snotty girls in the locker room griping to Becky about big butts were the ones with the problem.  You don’t have a problem with writing, music or art, the people who are trying to get you to stop liking such things have the problem.

Look people, the man’s a knight, so he must have learned a thing or two in his travels, knowledge that entered his brain as he slayed dragons and trolls and orcs and defended Old Britannia from the forces of evil.

Is there a theoretical “big butt” that you love, that you can’t deny?  Discuss in the comments.

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Rap Philosophy – “I Got Hoes in Different Area Codes”

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The year was 2001.  George W. Bush had just become president and a young rapper by the name of Ludacris was burning up the charts.

His seminal treatise?  “Area Codes.”

Let’s take a look:

I’ve got hoes
I’ve got hoes, in different area codes…area codes
Hoes! Hoes… in different area codes…area codes…

Ludacris then goes on to make a number of witty ho puns.  Eat some ho-deurves, whore-mones and what have you.  He missed his calling by not becoming a comedian.

Is Luda really talking about hoes?  Or is he talking about being a man of the world?

Surely, a man of his prominence in the rap game could have the hoes brought to him.  However, he travels to various area codes in order to obtain these hoes.

One begins to wonder if he’s really traveling just for the hoes, or if he is traveling in order to expand his mind and his base of experience.

One should travel.  One should get out of one’s comfort zone.  One should see the world and experience other cultures.  Maybe you’ll find a place you truly belong.  Or, maybe you already belong at the place you’ve always call home and you’ll appreciate it that much more.

What will you seek when you travel?  New ideas?  New languages?  New forms of expression?  New works of art?  New experiences?

In Ludacris’ experience, he sought new hoes whenever he reached his new destinations.  But while Luda was looking for women with loose morals, i.e. “hoes” as commonly stated in the rap vernacular, you might be looking for any type of new experience when you travel.

What is the “ho” that you wish to experience in a new area code?  New food?  New fun?  New ways of life?

Whatever your “ho in a different area code” may be, I hope you find it.  Of course, the key to happiness is to also appreciate the hoes in your very own area code, as very few of us will ever be able to afford to be international globe trotters.

What’s your ho in a different area code, reader?  Discuss in the comments.

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Rap Philosophy – All I Need is a Big Booty Ho

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The year?  2012.

The artist?  2 Chainz, a true revolutionary in that he made the world aware that he only needed two chains.  He was too important to have only one chain, yet not so tacky that he needed a hundred chains.  He just needed one more chain that the average man.

The song?  The Birthday Song.

The important lyrics:

When I die, bury me inside that Gucci store
When I die, bury me inside that Louis store
All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho
All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho.

Crude?  Certainly.  Crass?  Definitely.  Groundbreaking?  You bet.

Shakespeare?  Fakespeare.  Chaucer?  Schmaucer.  With these four lines, 2 Chainz proves to be one of the greatest bards of the English language.

3.5 READERS: But BQB!  He’s just talking about material possessions and women with big butts.

Yes…and no.

Death.  Ahh, the Grim Reaper eventually puts his icy hand on all over our shoulders.  And so, all that Mr. Chainz asks is that when he dies, he is buried in a high end fashion store (Gucci or Louis).

He considers himself high end, a man worthy of the respect that wealthy shoppers give to luxury clothing labels.  That’s how he wants to be remembered – as high end.

But he’s not dead yet.  In life, and for as long as air fills his lungs, the man wants what is most important to him, namely, women with loose morals and copious derrieres.  Big booty hoes make Mr. Chainz happy and he wishes to celebrate his birthday (the annual celebration of his life) by pursuing his great passion of fornicating with big booty hoes.

What the general public fails to realize is that getting the gift of a big booty ho on your birthday is a metaphor that could represent literally what is the most important pursuit in anyone’s life.  When you hear Mr. Chainz say, “All I want for my birthday is a big booty ho” you should hear, “All I want for my birthday is to pursue the most important activity in my life.”

3.5 readers, what is your big booty ho?  For 2 Chainz, his big booty ho actually was a big booty ho.

For me, my big booty ho is writing.  All I want for my birthday is a seven figure book publishing deal.  Although, to be honest, I wouldn’t turn down a big booty ho either.

What’s your big booty ho?  Is it music?  Art? Sports?  Photography?  Hiking? Tennis? Basketball?  Needlepoint? Cooking?  Fancy dining?  Travel?

Maybe the big booty ho isn’t an activity but a dream.  A goal.  2 Chainz’s goal is to get down with a big booty ho.  Maybe you dream of becoming an Olympic athlete, or a broadway star, or the next start up company billionaire.  Whatever it is, you must pursue and grab hold of the gigantic butt cheeks of your big booty ho before it is too late and you are left all alone, with nary a big booty ho in sight.

Whatever your personal big booty ho is, I hope you pursue it.  And if you ever lose sight of your big booty ho, I hope that you will remember to keep chasing that big booty ho on your birthday.  Birthdays are fun days to celebrate our life, but they also keep us humble and remind us that that clock is ticking, and there’s one less year to chase that big booty ho that is eluding us.

Tell me about your big booty ho in the comments, 3.5 readers.

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